


Money Shot

by wordswehavesaid



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Boys Get Found Out, Established Relationship, M/M, Not a Drama, Paparazzi, Post-Crossover episodes, Total Fluff, also Captain Singh's in for like a second, mentions of Caitlin Snow, mentions of Cisco Ramon, mentions of Iris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordswehavesaid/pseuds/wordswehavesaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even without being rich, it seems Oliver Queen still attracts something of a media storm. So when inevitably a few members of the paparazzi finally track down the former billionaire’s comparatively under-the-radar boyfriend, Barry Allen handles it all with his typical grace and charm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Money Shot

Even without being rich, it seems Oliver Queen still attracts something of a media storm. If not wherever he goes, then whenever he does something deemed appropriately ‘shocking’. Like dating another man.

It isn’t like they advertised it. Quite the opposite, actually; there are the matters of living in two different cities, managing their often hectic schedules, and just the simple fact that neither of them are exactly social butterflies these days. But even they can get tired of sitting in either of their bases or homes with takeout and, though he can easily go without it, Oliver is still accustomed to some of the finer things in life. Barry never calls the older man out on it, to question or to tease; it’s part of what makes Oliver himself despite all the hardship life has thrown his way.

On a trip to Starling he donned the nicest suit jacket he owns and let Oliver drive them to a restaurant that he’ll probably never remember the name of, just that the food was excellent, the mood pleasant without being stiff, and the smile Oliver gave him over the rim of his wine glass had Barry impulsively reaching over the top of the table to grab his free hand. Caitlin says something to him a few days later back in Central, some blurb she caught online and a picture, but then there’s an alert of a car chase going on downtown and they’re back to work, the matter forgotten.

So when inevitably a few members of the paparazzi finally track down the former billionaire’s comparatively under-the-radar boyfriend, Barry Allen handles it all with his typical grace and charm.

He’s late to work on a Thursday morning, for a start, and so has sped his way to the alley just around the corner from the precinct. He steps out into the regular flow of pedestrian traffic while running a hand through his hair, trying to get the overly-windswept look under control. The strap of his satchel slips off his shoulder and he readjusts it, never breaking his stride.

Until halfway down the block there’s calls of:

“That’s him, there!”

“Mr. Allen!”

And, “Barry, hey Barry Allen! Look over here!”

Barry does, more out of bewilderment than anything that several people seem to be trying to address him at once, and is rewarded with the flash of a few cameras going off in his face, shutters clicking furiously. He blinks a few times with a little shake of his head, taking an automatic step backward and rocking onto the heels of his feet.

“Uh, can I help you?” His mind is able to process in its fast-functioning way that these are all strangers, with rather professional-looking equipment all told—one of those cameras is definitely a 500 mm—and judging by the line of tinted-window cars parked down the block they’ve been here a while, waiting for him.

But why? There’s nothing particularly newsworthy or picture-worthy about him. His alter-ego, well that’s another matter, but there’s no _way_ any of them can know—

A woman near the front speaks up before he can have a full-blown panic attack in the middle of the sidewalk. “Is it true that you’re dating infamous playboy Oliver Queen?”

He dimly registers the dropping of his jaw and that no sound is coming out, but that doesn’t seem to deter the others from further questioning.

“When did you meet and how long have you been seeing each other?”

“Can you give us a smile?” One of the camera-holders in the back requests, hurriedly switching between two lenses.

“Were you planning on going public last week?”

“Has Mr. Queen always been bisexual?”

It’s about then that he breaks from his surprised stupor. Barry’s jaw snaps shut and his cheeks grow hot. “No—no comment.” He glances away, finding the entrance of the precinct. Mapping out an escape root like a cornered animal, some part in the back of his head acknowledges. “And now I’m really late for work. Please, um, please excuse me.” It takes everything in him to duck around the group and into the precinct at a humanly possible pace. Of course, he also takes the steps three at a time.

“Allen, you’re late,” comes the customary rebuke from Captain Singh.

“Sorry, sir, I—sorry,” he doesn’t elaborate with an excuse, the only valid one seeming far too humiliating even for him. It’s a lucky thing no one in the building has even noticed the minor commotion outside and so he simply continues up to the safe haven of his lab, away from any and all questions or accusations about him or Oliver.

The thought has him taking out his phone and bringing up the number he now knows by heart. If he ought to talk to anyone about this, after all.

It only rings once. “Barry?” The other man’s voice, even over a phoneline, brings a smile to his face as he drops into his desk chair.

“Hey.”

“Is something wrong?” He’s not hurt by the seeming brusqueness of the question. Oliver knows he’s supposed to be working right now, so it’s not likely that Barry’s making a simple social call.

He balances the phone between shoulder and ear for a moment so he can log in to his work computer “Not exactly. I mean, it’s not a huge deal, but well,” he forces a laugh. “Got a bit held up by some of your lingering enthusiasts this morning.”

“Lingering enthusiasts?” Oliver echoes, and he can just picture the way the older man tilts his head just slightly to the side and his nose scrunches up in confusion at the phrasing.

“Yep. They brought cameras.”

A groan is the next thing he hears. “Just great. I didn’t think anyone still cared enough.”

“So they didn’t try to go through you first?” He guessed as much, considering there’s been no warning.

“The paparazzi’s been somewhat leery of approaching me about personal relationships for some time.”

“Since you punched that guy out, you mean,” he clarifies helpfully.

“Barry, you have a remarkable memory for my more violent moments,” the tone is more grudging than complimentary, and Barry smirks. “Particularly considering that happened years before I met you.”

“Well apparently they haven’t forgotten it, so now I have to put up with them,” he replies.

“I can _hear_ your fake-pouting. It’s not cute.” A sigh. “What do you want me to do?”

“What? Nothing. They’re just some people with cameras, I think I can take it,” he tells the other man with a roll of his eyes. “Seriously, don’t bother. Just wanted to tell you and, you know, maybe procrastinate on work a little. Talk to my boyfriend.” It’s as cheesy as he knows Oliver can take mid-morning over the phone.

“Alright.” It’s clear he’s not exactly happy about being called off, though Barry has to wonder just what Oliver was planning to do from 600 miles away. The tone of it overall is fond, and he adds, “Try and stay in the precinct if you can. They’ll give up if they don’t think they’ll get anything else.”

It’s sound advice, so he nods and says, “Ok.”

“Could you make the trip over tonight?”

Now he’s smiling broadly. “Sure, if nothing comes up. Meet at the—?”

“It’s the foundry,” Oliver growls before he can say the dreaded nickname, and Barry can’t help laughing. The older man does as well, though it’s a chuckle more than one of his true, hearty laughs. “And no, the apartment would be better.”

Well that pretty much negates any idea that this visit will involve anything work-related. Unfortunately if he wants to see Oliver at all this evening he needs to get started on his work here now. “Ok, I’ll be there later. Love you.”

It’s a soft yet assured, “Love you, too,” that leaves him grinning down at his phone for a few moments even after the call is ended. Then he sets it aside, pulls the first of a number of folders towards him, and finally begins his work day.

There’s no call to a crime scene and he’d packed a lunch and some of Cisco’s calorie bars, so he follows Oliver’s directive to stay indoors more out of convenience than anything else, so much so that he’s almost able to put the whole incident out of his mind. At least until the sun’s already gone down and Joe walks into his lab.

He takes his usual perch on the corner of Barry’s desk before asking, “Know anything about that group generously feeding the city’s parking meters outside?”

Barry can’t help turning a little pink. It shouldn’t be a big deal—it isn’t—but having to explain to Joe is something he was hoping to avoid. He’s already rubbing at the back of his neck as he says, “There’s some rumors online that Oliver and I ‘might’ be dating so now I’m sort of trending. You know, between that and my other job I might be able to take the top two spots on Yahoo.”

It’s a weak attempt of a joke at best, but he doesn’t like the frown on the other man’s face or how he slowly shakes his head from side to side. It’s no secret that Joe’s approval of Oliver, both the former billionaire and the vigilante, has only come recently and now entirely hinges on Barry’s happiness. But all he says is, “This could really get out of hand. Only person I want at a crime scene with a camera is you.”

“I know,” he sighs. They’ve been lucky it’s a slow day.

“They’re making a lot of people in here nervous.”

“I know,” he repeats, a bit stronger. He meets Joe’s stern, yet worried gaze head-on. “I’m going up to Starling tonight, alright? We’ll talk things over, work something out.”

The harder edges of his surrogate father’s expression soften, and he reaches out to grasp Barry’s shoulder. “Well good. Don’t let this complicate things with you two.”

Barry lets out a breath he doesn’t even realize he’s been holding. “We won’t.”

Joe squeezes for a moment before letting go, pushing off the desk and grabbing up the whole stack of files. “I can pass these around. Get going.”

Barry grins before grabbing up his bag. “Thanks.” And then he’s running, fast as he dares in his street clothes. He’s sent off a text to Oliver by the time he’s halfway there and one to Caitlin and Cisco each reminding them to call him if there’s an emergency. He figures it’s best to avoid being seen out and about in Starling at the moment so he simply speeds up the stairwell inside the apartment building, lets himself in, and only slows down once the door’s shut behind him.

“Oliver, you here yet?”

“You’re not _that_ fast,” is the answering call, from somewhere in the living room.

He grins, kicking off his only slightly smoking shoes by the door and heading down the hallway. “To be fair, you did have a good 300 mile head start once I texted you, give or take, and—mmph!”

Oliver’s been waiting for him just inside the room it seems, and he catches Barry completely off guard in a kiss, which he decides after a moment is definitely the best way to be greeted especially when Oliver brushes his thumbs over Barry’s cheekbones and slants his mouth across Barry’s just _so_ —

But even that can’t quite distract him from yet another camera flash, so he breaks away and turns to look. “Seriously, Felicity? Not funny.”

The blonde woman is already tapping away at her phone which she used to take the photo, though she spares him a glance just over the rims of her glasses and gives a tiny shake of her head. "Oh, this is no joke. It’s the plan.”

“What plan?” He looks from her to Oliver, bewildered.

“People like the ones outside your workplace today want to get a big scoop, or exclusive if they can manage, so that they can sell it. Money’s what they’re in it for,” Oliver explains.

“But, if we take a picture of the two of you ourselves,” Felicity continues, “and place it on the Internet—from where we can never get it back unless if I have a _lot_ of time and coffee—for free, no one’s going to want to pay for it, thus making stalking either of you entirely pointless.”

He can’t help looking impressed. “You’re beating them at their own game.”

“That’s my job—not actually. Like I have a paid, real day job, not just this,” she states. He nods. “Which starts pretty early in the morning—”

“Felicity, go get some sleep,” Oliver recommends. “And thank you.”

She smiles brightly at the two of them. “No problem.”

A thought occurs to him as she walks around them into the hallway and he follows for a few paces. “Hey, Felicity, could you maybe wait until tomorrow to post that? Probably not the best way for Iris to find out.”

By the way she freezes for a moment and then looks back with apology written all over her face he knows it’s far too late to make that request. “Oops?”

His smile is closer to a grimace, but he waves it off. “Never mind. Goodnight.”

Felicity bites her lip for a second, then nods. “You too.”

Oliver waits for the front door to shut before winding his arms around Barry’s waist from behind. “Think Iris’ll be too upset?”

He sighs heavily. “I don’t know. There’s a lot she doesn’t know about me anymore. I just wasn’t sure how to tell her about us without revealing everything else. But I got to try, she deserves better.”

He feels Oliver’s nod more in the brush of the other man’s stubble against his cheek and a brief weight on his shoulder. “If that’s how you feel, she probably does. But,” he pauses to press his lips to that spot just behind Barry’s ear that makes him nearly melt back against the other man. “I think we can wait to worry about that and everything else until tomorrow.”

“Mm-hm,” he hums his agreement as he takes one of Oliver’s hands in his, lets himself be led back through the apartment. But he tugs them to a stop just outside the bedroom door, and can’t help remarking, “Guess this whole tabloid thing’s kind of routine for you by now.”

Oliver regards him for a moment, then squeezes his hand. “This may not be my first time through the media storm, Barry—but it’s certainly the first time I’m going into it with someone I will fight to keep safe.”

And there’s nothing for it but to lean in and kiss him, wrap his arms around his neck and feel hands on his hips pulling him flush against the other man. When they break from lip lock Barry doesn’t quite know how he has the breath to say, “Think I prefer that kind of close-up.”

He’s pretty sure the answering groan into his shoulder is still agreement, particularly when Oliver wastes no time yanking him inside and bringing them all the closer.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't really know where the inspiration came from on this one. Had fun writing it, though!  
> So there's been some issues with links and things. I don't know how or why they showed up, but I'm trying to get it fixed. Thanks in advance for your patience and understanding!


End file.
